


At the Club

by Jessi



Series: Teen Angel 'verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Bunker Fic, Cas in a kilt, Cas reads Ginsberg, Dean in leather pants, Fallen Castiel, Gay Bar, Grinding, Sharing Clothes, Teen Angel 'verse, because he's cool like that, nobody is wearing any undies!, rated teen for mentions of sex, they should probably just hire me to be head of the wardrobe department for season nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessi/pseuds/Jessi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Angel ‘verse 30 Day OTP Challenge: Wearing Each Others’ Clothes</p><p> </p><p>Dean took a break from sucking a hickey into the skin under Cas’ ear and said “Hey babe?” </p><p>“Hmmm?” Cas asked, distracted by the feeling of Dean pressed against him.</p><p>“We’re definitely coming back here.”</p><p>“Mmmhmm,” Cas agreed, “And you’re definitely wearing those pants again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Club

**Author's Note:**

> These fics are written for fans and brokenhearted queers with _needs_ so no you may not teach them in your class. I didn't go to college and neither will my fics. We're keepin' it real.

In the days after the incident at the state fair Cas was different. In the bunker he was still all over Dean, pressing him up against walls and doorways, climbing into his lap and grinding on him as they attempted to watch movies on the sofa, but when they ventured outside, it’s like he finally understood personal space. Except Dean didn’t want personal space now, he wanted to be in physical contact with Cas all the time, now that he knew how well they fit together, like two puzzle pieces combined to make a whole, he refused to give it up.

Despite his hatred for ‘chick flick moments’ and talking about feelings, he broached the subject with his angel.

“Hey Cas,” he asked as they lay in bed, naked and wrapped around each other in the early morning, “Why don’t you touch me when we’re in public?” He tried not to let the hurt into his voice.

Cas took a moment to answer, “I suppose before, I understood homophobia on a theoretical level, but experiencing it first hand was entirely different. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

Dean hugged the smaller man to his chest, “You know I’m a big boy, and I can take care of myself, it isn’t your job to protect me.”

Cas sighed, “Once, it was my job to protect you. It’s hard to overcome that mindset, but I’ll try.”

Dean kissed the top of his messy head, “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

And Cas did try, he started holding Dean’s hand again, and cuddling to his side in diner booths when they went out to eat with Sam. Still, he was constantly on edge, eyes darting around, analyzing potential threats.

Dean decided that it was time he took matters in his own hands. On Wednesday, he borrowed Sam’s computer, and googled “gay bars in Kansas.” He found one a little over an hour from the bunker.

Castiel was lounging in their room, reading Ginsberg poetry and lazily bobbing his head to a Velvet Underground album. Dean flopped down on the bed next to him. Cas looked up from his book.

“Friday night, you and me are going out.”

Cas tilted his head, not used to Dean making decisions for them without asking him first, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Wear something sexy, and pack a bag, we’re staying overnight.”

Dean got up and left the room before Cas could ask any more questions. Plus, he needed to get some air, because he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

It’s not that he had a problem with being with Cas, and he had been to gay bars before on hunts, but this was the first time he’d be going to a gay bar as a patron. He started having the sort of thoughts that guys like Dean Winchester don’t often have.

Would he fit in?

Would Cas be comfortable there?

And the most pressing matter, what was he going to wear? He wasn’t an expert on gay culture, but he had a feeling that flannel and work boots didn’t cut it as the height of gay fashion.

_Fuck_

Before he could work himself into more of a panic, he remembered that he had access to an expert on gay culture, in spot number four on his speed dial (right behind Sam, Cas, and Kevin, and before Garth).

He sat down on the curb outside the bunker and nervously chewed on his fingernails while listening to Charlie’s “Walking on Sunshine” ringback tone. 

Charlie answered with a “Sup, broski?”

“Ok, first, don’t _ever_ call me broski again. Second, I’m taking Cas to a gay bar Friday, andIdon’tknowwhattowear.” He blurted, embarrassed. 

“Awww, “ Charlie cooed, “It’s my babies first trip to the gay bar. Can I come and see you off? I want to take pictures, like a proud mama on prom night.”

Dean ground his teeth, “CHARLIE! Cut it out, I’m serious.”

Charlie giggled, “Sorry. But seriously, just borrow something from Cas. His wardrobe is perf for a gay bar.”

Dean relaxed, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Thanks.”

“No problemo. Let me know how it goes. Actually, I’ll be heading up your way in a few weeks, there’s a comicon in Kansas City. Maybe I can swing by?”

“A comicon, huh?” Dean pondered, “Sounds awesome. Maybe we’ll go with you.”

“Cool, Just let me know. Have fun this weekend!”

“Thanks, talk to you later.”

“Peace out!”

Friday found Dean digging through Cas’ half of the closet, hair still damp and dressed in only his boxer briefs, looking for something to wear and making a mess, while the other man finished up in the bathroom after his shower. He loved all these clothes on Cas, loved taking them off of Cas even more, but most of it wasn’t anything Dean would be comfortable in. Then they caught his eye, a pair of black leather trousers, in a standard boot cut just like a pair of jeans, no studs or sparkles or shine. Just classic, leather pants. Dean could wear leather pants, lots of the rock stars he liked wore leather pants. He nodded, agreeing with his own train of thought, and grabbed the pants, closing the closet. Then he dug in his own drawer in the dresser, and fished out a skin tight plain black t-shirt, shrunk in the dryer enough that he rarely wore it anymore, but perfect for a night out with his boyfriend. 

He started to pull on the pants, but they were _so_ snug, they wouldn’t fit over his underwear without bunching up the cotton. He wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of being so exposed, but he pulled the pants back off, took off his underwear, and tried again. This time he was able to pull them up all the way, and close them, just barely. He tugged the tshirt over his head, and checked himself out in the full length mirror Cas had insisted they put up on the back of the door.

He was shocked, but pleased at what he saw. The outfit left nothing to the imagination, shirt showing off his pecs and sculpted abs, short enough to show a hint of skin above the low waist of the pants which emphasized the bow of his legs, and his sizeable manhood. He shot his best ‘blue steel’ at his reflection in the mirror, then broke into a cocky smirk. 

He was just sitting down on the bed to put on a pair of black combat boots, when Cas walked in, and the tight pants got all that much tighter.

Cas was in a snug MC5 t-shirt, the sleeves completely cut off, as well as the collar, exposing a peek of Cas’ sharp collarbone. He had paired it with _oh Christ_ a royal blue tartan kilt, his black studded motorcycle boots, and ever present chain padlocked around his neck. His eyes were rimmed in smudged black eyeliner, and Dean wasn’t 100% sure, but it looked like he had on lipgloss as well. His hair was made even messier than usual with the addition of some of Dean’s hair gel.

Cas made a gesture similar to the one he made all those months ago when he had stepped out of the bathroom after returning from purgatory, “Is this sexy enough?” he asked in his low voice.

Dean stood from the bed, and walked toward his boyfriend, trying to form words. That was when Cas saw Dean’s outfit.

“Are-” Cas swallowed, “Are those my leather pants?”

Dean grinned at him, “Yep.”

“Can you take them off?”

“What?” Dean frowned, “Do you not want me to wear them?”

Cas pounced on him, palming his ass with both hands, and pulling Dean tight against his body, “I don’t want you to wear _anything_ ” he growled in Dean’s ear.

Dean shivered, but pushed him back, “Nuh uh, we’ve got a date, remember?”

“Fine, but drive fast.”

“Why?”

“Because the faster we go on this date, the faster we get to what comes after the date.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that, and they raced to the Impala, overnight bags in hand, barely taking the time to yell a ‘goodbye, don’t call unless the world is ending’ to Sam, who just laughed and went back to writing a facebook message to Kat, the research assistant he had met awhile back. 

Two hours later found the couple already halfway to drunk, and grinding away on the dance floor to music they both agreed was awful. The club wasn’t bad though, the bartender was a really laid back lesbian who actually reminded Dean a lot of Ash, and it was amazing to be in a place where they could feel totally safe being together. And the grinding was _really nice_ , Cas' back to Dean’s front, the back of Cas’ kilt hiked up, bare ass (because Dean had the best boyfriend _ever_ and he had totally gone traditional under the kilt) rubbing up just right against Dean’s hard-on inside the tight leather pants. 

Dean took a break from sucking a hickey into the skin under Cas’ ear and said “Hey babe?” 

“Hmmm?” Cas asked, distracted by the feeling of Dean pressed against him.

“We’re definitely coming back here.”

“Mmmhmm,” Cas agreed, “And you’re definitely wearing those pants again.”


End file.
